


Champion by Right

by Babs (King_Dollophead)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dragon!Merlin, Gen, Merlin is involved in an epic showdown, Multichapter, Reveal!fic, Will edit later, crappy thing i started a long time ago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 18:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17813636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_Dollophead/pseuds/Babs
Summary: When an enigmatic sorceress spontaneously appears in Camelot, demanding a battle with the kingdom's champion, Arthur is ready to accept her challenge. Unfortunately for him, the champion she had in mind is far less prepared. His name? Merlin. Will he be victorious? Originally posted to Fanfiction.net on 08/05/17.





	1. The Gauntlet of Scéawung

It was seemingly an ordinary evening in Camelot, and the Round Table meeting was to be no exception; or so everyone thought.

King Arthur and his knights, sirs Leon, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan, sat around an ancient, baroque table with a circular top (hence the name " _Round Table_ "). Beside the king sat his lovely wife, Queen Guinevere, and the court physician, Gaius. Behind the king, lingering disinterestedly in the shadows, stood his gangly manservant, Merlin.

Merlin watched a cobweb gambol lazily from the elaborate ceiling beams above the council chambers, paying little attention to the affairs of the meeting. He was idly aware of Gaius and Guinevere's early departure, as the woman was starting to fall ill—or so everyone thought—and struggled to get through many of her daily tasks.

Merlin knew that the queen's discomfort was not borne of illness, but rather, something— _someone_ —else. Camelot's royal couple was expecting, and did not even know it.

Merlin smiled softly, wishing he could tell Arthur and his wife the good news.

" _I could always use the old_ 'I'm psychic' _excuse, but I don't think they'd believe me this time around. Ugh, if only they knew of my magic; I could have told Gwen ages ago!_ " Merlin thought, frustrated. He had told Gaius about it, but the elderly physician, set in his ways, had refused to inform Gwen without proof.

" _I suppose I'll just have to wait. The longer the prat is unaware, the less I have to deal with his anxiety-induced temper,_ " Merlin thought, grumbling as he envisioned the mighty king of Camelot taking all of his apprehension out on his faithful manservant. " _I can feel the goblets striking my head already! …I'd better get Gaius to check that out_ ," Merlin mused irritably.

Merlin was just wondering whether or not severe brain damage would warrant a day off (probably not, although Arthur may start throwing pillows at him instead of goblets) when a bright flash of heliotrope flooded the chambers.

The lilac luminescence cleared, revealing a paradoxically youthful-looking elder in its place. The sorceress threw back her hood, revealing a heap of elegantly-styled ash-blonde hair set above a fair, smooth, yet wizened face that surrounded cadaverous, marble-like eyes. The woman was clad in iridescent, armored robes that seemed to sprout from her slight form like flower petals.

The knights drew their swords, poised to strike at the slightest indication of danger.

"Send forth your champion!" the woman demanded, tossing her splendiferously ornate gauntlet to the ground.

"Why should we accept a challenge from a  _sorceress_  such as yourself?" Arthur spat.

"If you do not, I can promise that harm will come to your kingdom. It is far easier to deal with a calm sorceress than an angry one, that much I can assure you," the woman replied coolly.

Arthur frowned, struggling to settle on the best course of action. Sighing, the monarch stepped forward, his thick roseate cape billowing out regally behind him.

"I, King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, accept your challenge," he declared, leaning down to grasp the armored glove.

" _Halt_! I will only do battle with the true champion of Camelot, and you are not he," the woman cried, stopping the flaxen-haired king from picking up her gauntlet.

Arthur was incensed.

" _I_  am the king, and thus, I am my kingdom's champion! It is my responsibility to—"

The woman cut him off impatiently.

"You are mistaken. I shall only do battle with the most worthy and accomplished individual amongst you. Their title is inconsequential, for I judge potential champions solely on merit."

"Then, which of us is worthy to be your contender?" Sir Leon queried politely.

"Your champion knows that he is the one I seek. I see that he is reluctant to humor me," the woman answered with a wry laugh. "I know that he is here. Cease this cowardice at once, Champion, or these men shall face my wrath!"

Unseen by the others, Merlin gulped.

" _Oh gods, please don't tell me that she means me!_ " he thought, an imploring glint in his vibrant cobalt eyes.

" _You know that I am referring to you, Emrys; do not deny it,_ " she responded telepathically.

Merlin cursed inwardly; she had heard him.

The woman smirked.

" _I have been selecting, challenging, and testing possible Champions for eons. It has all been in preparation for our battle, Emrys. You will not deny me_ ," she replied vehemently.

" _What reason could possibly compel me to accept_?" Merlin inquired crossly.

" _Proving your worth, for one_ ," the woman answered.

" _I already know my worth. I have friends and family that validate this, and have little need to do so myself, especially if it puts them and the future of Albion at risk_ ," Merlin retorted sagaciously.

" _I can see that the trivial trials of the nobility hold little meaning in your eyes. Very well,_ " the woman turned towards the knights, a sinister gleam in her cold, dead eyes. " _I will simply provide other means of persuasion_."

Merlin's eyes widened as the woman summoned a violaceous ball of fire, training her sadistic orbs on the cavaliers of Camelot—Merlin's friends.

" _Who are you_?" Merlin demanded irately, glowering at the woman before him.

" _I am known by many as_ Scéawung _, the contemplator and examiner. I am here to test your capabilities, and perhaps assist you in reaching your full potential, if only you agree to do battle,_ " Scéawung countered declaratively.

Merlin sighed.

" _Very well then. It seems you have left me with no choice_ ," the young warlock responded bitterly.

Merlin stepped out of the shadows, a bone-chilling glare contorting his cheery face, mauve firelight contouring his already-distinguished cheekbones.

The knights looked on, flabbergasted, as the young man approached the fearsome sorceress without fright. Their eyes widened as the lanky manservant bent down gracefully and lifted the sumptuous gauntlet.

"I, Merlin of Ealdor, accept your challenge," he announced.

As soon as the young warlock had spoken these words, a circular, auroral wave emanated from the opalescent gauntlet, tearing through everything in its path.

"We do battle at sundown tomorrow, Champion," Scéawung responded, her dull eyes gleaming with unreadable emotion. "You have all of the morrow to prepare. I shall come to you when it is time for our match. Farewell." The woman then turned her gaze to the ceiling, spreading her arms wide. " ** _Lyft, fyr; ágénsendan mec_**!"

An amaranthine inferno sprung into being, consuming Scéawung and burning her into ash (that was rather reminiscent of her elaborate hair), which was swept away by swirling violet winds.

The knights stared at the place she had vanished for a moment, rendered speechless by what had just transpired.

After a long while, Arthur turned to face his manservant, who was staring darkly at the spot where Scéawung had vanished.

"What the hell just happened?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lyft, fyr; ágénsendan mec!" = Wind, fire; send me back!


	2. A Mute Point

Merlin was very, very nervous. After all, it isn't every day some random sorcerer challenges another to a duel.

Arthur was also quite nervous. For all he knew, his manservant was nothing but a clumsy, lily-livered _girl_ who couldn't wield so much as a stick. Ironically, Merlin was quite skilled with the elaborate magical wooden staff that he had nabbed from the Sidhe girl, Sophia, several years prior. This was the weapon that the young warlock had decided to use, along with his magic, of course.

Arthur would not leave Merlin alone, however, insisting that he train Merlin to use a sword.

"How do you expect to defeat her, a bloody  _sorceress_ , when you can hardly lift a blade?" the king argued.

"I really do appreciate your confidence in me,  _sire_ ," Merlin replied crossly.

Arthur rolled his eyes and continued to pester his manservant.

Following about an hour of arguing, Arthur's voice had spontaneously given out (thanks to a bit of covert magic), allowing Merlin to take his leave.

After slipping away from his exasperated (and now mute) employer, the manservant had retrieved Sophia's ostentatious, jewel-topped staff from beneath some decrepit floorboards in his bedchambers, and rushed down to the unoccupied, derelict cave that had once contained Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon. It was there that the young man began his magical training, his activity sending ostensibly inexplicable tremors throughout the entire castle; Merlin had summoned a double of himself to combat, hence the violent shaking of the structure above. Using nearly every method at his disposal, including his dragonlord abilities to summon a rather recalcitrant wyvern to assist him, Merlin managed to incapacitate his inferior clone.

The jittery, adrenaline-high warlock had cast a quick spell to disguise the Sidhe staff as a simple sword (although the blade was shinier than could be considered natural), tossed it into his belt, and stealthily made his way upstairs, famished.

Upon exiting the kitchens, Merlin had encountered an irate Arthur, who was desperately sipping on some piping hot herbal tea in the hopes of regaining his voice.

Sniggering, Merlin bowed his head, concealing his aureate irises from view as he removed the muting spell from Arthur.

"…are you  _laughing_? This  _isn't_  funny in the  _least_!" Arthur cried, still unaware of the fact that his voice had returned at last.

"Correction; it  _was_  funny," Merlin responded with a cheeky smirk, waiting for the cheesed-off king to catch on.

"I could have you put in the stocks for that," Arthur warned.

"Yes, if only you had your  _precious_  voice back! You must  _really_  enjoy the sound of it, if you're this upset by its loss," Merlin replied mockingly.

"Watch your mouth,  _Mer_ lin," Arthur reprimanded.

Merlin snorted.

"I'm too busy  _listening_ to you run yours,  _sire_ ," Merlin retorted impishly.

Merlin cackled internally as Arthur's eyes widened in realization, then in awe as they landed on the steaming goblet of tea he clutched in his left hand.

"Oh."

"Yes, quite," Merlin agreed with a simper.

"Merlin?"

"Yes,  _sire_?"

"Shut up."

"I think you've been quiet enough for the both of us," Merlin countered mischievously.

"No, I obviously haven't been," Arthur retorted angrily, slapping his manservant "lightly" across the top of his head. Ignoring Merlin's particularly vulgar exclamation of pain, Arthur asked his subordinate to thank Gaius for the suggestion of mint tea, and informed him of the Round Table meeting that would occur within the next fifteen minutes.

Groaning, Merlin agreed, albeit in a rather disagreeable manner, and made his way to the council chambers, clutching his aching head all the way.

* * *

When Merlin arrived in the council chambers, he had been expecting the others (namely Gwaine) to be horsing around as they usually did before such events. Instead, the knights were all worriedly conversing in hushed tones, eyeing one another somberly.

"I never thought I'd see the day the oh-so-stoic Knights of the Round Table  _actually_  behaved seriously, for once!" Merlin exclaimed impishly, causing the others' gazes to land on him.

Merlin was filled with unease as the chambers grew silent. Not even Gwaine spoke up.

"What has gotten into you lads?" Merlin wondered aloud, eyeing his friends concernedly.

"Merlin," began Sir Leon, "we are all very…  _apprehensive_  about your upcoming duel with the sorcer—"

"Scéawung," Merlin interrupted without thinking.

"Pardon?" Leon asked, raising his eyebrow in a way that Gaius would have been quite proud of.

"Her name is…,"—" _Oh. Whoops._ "—"er, her name is Scéawung," Merlin repeated, cringing internally. He had completely forgotten that she had never introduced herself out loud.

"How, pray tell, do you know this?"

"She, er… she mentally reminded me of our duel earlier today, and told me her name," Merlin replied, fumbling for a plausible excuse.

"So, you are saying that she used magic on you?" Elyan asked, sounding rather upset by the notion.

"Erm… yeah," Merlin mumbled, fiddling awkwardly with his neckerchief and staring up intently at the very cobweb he had watched the previous evening. He found himself wishing, and not for the first time, that Lancelot had been there to help him out of this situation.

"How do you know she hasn't incapacitated you in some way?" Arthur probed, startling everyone as he approached the table, seemingly from out of nowhere.

"I don't  _feel_ incapacitated," Merlin replied obstinately.

"Some enchantments have that effect," Arthur pointed out.

Merlin snorted.

"You would know, wouldn't you?" he murmured amusedly.

"What do you mean by that?" Arthur inquired, both bemused and slightly offended.

"Nothing,  _sire_ ; nothing at all," Merlin assured him, much too quickly for Arthur's liking.

" _Mer_ lin—" the king warned.

"I apologize, sire, but we only have so much time before sundown," Sir Leon interjected courteously.

"Oh, right," Arthur agreed, dedicating one last sidelong glance to his manservant before giving the knights his full attention.

"Gaius, have you found anything on this…  _Scéawung_ in your research?" Arthur queried.

"I regret to inform you that, whilst I did come across some information, it is quite limited," Gaius reported solemnly.

"Any information we can access would be of great help to us. What have you managed to find?"

"According to the  _Tome of Bócere_ , Scéawung, which means  _the contemplator_ , or  _the examiner_ , was an ancient mentor for many heroes of old. She would often challenge those she deemed worthy of the title of  _Champion_ , so as to help her opponent reach their full potential."

"Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of challenging them? Usually, you try to win, not lose," Gwaine denoted perplexedly.

"Indeed, Sir Gwaine. Scéawung, however, exists for the sole purpose of assisting heroes."

"Wait, you mean to tell me that  _Merlin_ is a hero?" Arthur asked incredulously.

Everyone turned to stare at the man in question.

"Well, the lady  _did_  say that she would only challenge the most worthy amongst us," Gwaine rejoined.

The knights exchanged glances, then continued to gawp at Merlin disbelievingly.

"Doesn't that make Merlin the true champion of Camelot, then?" Elyan inquired.

"Indeed."

The knights, physician, and manservant all started at the familiar voice of the sorceress whose arrival they had all fretfully anticipated.

"Is it dusk already?" Gwaine wondered aloud.

"No, I am just checking in on you all in advance." Scéawung turned to Merlin, who was shifting uncomfortably in place.

" _Are you prepared, Emrys?_ " she queried. Merlin was surprised by the softness in her tone.

" _Not yet,_ " he admitted, casting his friends an oblique glimpse.

" _I understand, Emrys. Please, do what you must, but do so with haste. I will await your arrival in the courtyard,_ " the woman announced.

" _Thank you. I will be there._ "

Scéawung nodded her approval before burning to ash and floating away on mulberry winds once more.

"Before I fight Scéawung, I must tell you something," Merlin declared, avoiding the concerned gazes of his friends.

"What is it, Merlin?" Percival questioned.

Merlin merely bit his lip, looking to Gaius for support.

The medic seemed reluctant, but nodded curtly.

" _Do not confess yet_ ," he mouthed. " _Just ask them to let you explain later_."

Merlin nodded subtly, turning to face the knights and Arthur once more. He sighed.

"There are… several things about me that you do not know. I am truly sorry for withholding the full truth—you have no idea how difficult it has been for me—from you all. You may feel…  _betrayed_ , to put it frankly. That is completely fine; you have every right to feel that way. All I ask is that you remember that, no matter what, I am the same Merlin you have always known, just with more layers than any of you realized. Also, please consider giving me a chance to explain myself; save your opinions for when I have finished my explanation," Merlin said, numerous emotions bubbling just below the surface.

The other men exchanged bemused and apprehensive glances before voicing their agreement.

"I'll stand by you, come h— or high water, Merlin," Gwaine announced audaciously, before anyone else could respond.

Merlin gave Gwaine a small, grateful smile.

"Thanks, Gwaine," Merlin acknowledged. He breathed deeply, turning towards the doors of the council chambers. "Dusk is upon us."

"I wish you the best of luck, my boy," Gaius said, giving his ward a soft smile.

Merlin thanked him, smiling sadly as the seasoned physician took his leave. Gwen was in need of medical attention yet again, and it had taken a lot to convince her to allow Gaius to attend the meeting.

"Let's go," Arthur said quietly, rising from his chair. The knights followed suit.

"Hey, good luck, mate," Gwaine whispered, giving his friend an affectionate pat on the back.

Merlin gave him a thankful, yet pained smile, and made his way to the courtyard, dreading the revelations that were soon to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bócere=instructor


	3. Violet-nce Shall Bloom

Scéawung stood silently in the center of the courtyard, invisible winds pulling forlornly at her garb. The sorceress's hollow eyes stared vacantly at her surroundings, taking in the scenery that was just as grey and empty as her antediluvian orbs.

The courtyard was devoid of any presence other than that of the woman, leaving her amidst a macabre silence.

The timeworn sorceress had cast a spell that prevented anyone, innocent or otherwise, from entering the courtyard without the consent of either herself or Merlin. This way, no one could interfere with their match, and no one would learn the truth until the manservant was ready.

Scéawung stood as the sun slowly slipped below the horizon, allowing the full moon to begin its shift as guardian of the heavens.

" _The time has come, Emrys,_ " she whispered.

" _I am here, Scéawung,_ " the boy in question replied resolutely.

Scéawung's eyes softened; the poor boy had power, indeed, but the price was one she would not wish upon anyone. She knew that Destiny had insisted that the young warlock attain his utmost ability that very eve, but she regretted the consequences of him obtaining such power.

Scéawung perished such thoughts, as she knew that her duty was to aid Destiny, not her pawns. Scéawung was not meant to be a hero; she was meant to help shape them.

" _Are you prepared for our duel_?" she asked the angular man once more.

She heard the young warlock sigh before replying, " _I am._ "

It was time for the battle to commence.

* * *

Merlin, Arthur, and the knights reached the edge of the courtyard fairly quickly. Not one word had been uttered on their solemn trek to the battlefield, as each man was far too nervous to think properly, much less articulate.

"You sure about this, mate?" Gwaine asked quietly, not out of doubt, but out of brotherly concern.

"Honestly? No, I am not sure at all," Merlin responded with a wan smile.

"Hey, if anyone can show some ancient sorcerer lady who's in charge, it's you," Gwaine replied reassuringly.

Merlin started, worried by the implications of Gwaine's words.

"What do you mean?" the young warlock questioned tentatively.

Gwaine gripped his best friend's shoulder gently, flashing him a disarming smile.

"Flying plates," he announced, as if that would explain everything.

Merlin gaped at the man. "What? You  _know_?"

"Yep," Gwaine replied with a cheeky grin, popping the 'p'. "Now go get 'em, pheasant-wrangler." Gwaine released Merlin's shoulder with a wink.

Judging by what Gwaine likely meant by 'pheasants' (wyverns), Merlin was left open-mouthed, wondering just how much Gwaine knew about his abilities.

" _There's no way he knows I'm a dragonlord… right?_ "

Merlin was not comforted in the slightest by Gwaine's roguish simper.

As Merlin opened his mouth to press further, Arthur spoke.

"As much as I'd  _love_ to sit and listen to your nonsensical prattle all day, we've got bigger things to worry about," the king snapped, eyeing Scéawung warily.

"Ooh, is the princess  _jealous_?" Gwaine teased.

"I wonder, is he more upset about the fact that we are  _completely_  ignoring him, or that we are participating in  _His Royal Pratness_ 's favorite hobby— _prat_ tle—without him?" Merlin added with faux curiosity.

"Shut  _up_ ,  _Mer_ lin," Arthur grumbled irritably.

"Yes,  _sire_ ," the impudent warlock responded with feeble cynicism.

Everyone started at the brazen boy's atypical lack of resistance, realizing for the first time just how nervous he must have been.

"It will be alright, Merlin," Leon offered warmly.

Percival gingerly placed a hand on the younger man's left shoulder, much like Gwaine had done, whilst Elyan patted the other. Gwaine flashed the boy another winning smile, ruffling his hair.

Arthur, meanwhile, squirmed with discomfiture. He was never one for emotions, be they positive or negative, and thus, had fairly impaired nurturing abilities.

Arthur debated with himself for a moment before deciding to support his friend—pride be  _damned._

Merlin's eyes grew to the size of five Great Dragons as Arthur pulled him into an awkward, yet well-meaning embrace.

"Good luck, you idiot," Arthur muttered, patting the younger boy on the back. He pulled away swiftly, so that it seemed almost as if the onlookers had imagined it.

The knights gaped at the king, astonished by his blatant display of fondness.

Merlin responded with an almost-teary smile, guilt tearing at his insides.

"Thank you. I will fight on your behalf," the young man replied, as if to somehow assuage the feelings of betrayal that the monarch would soon be experiencing.

Arthur merely nodded, patting his manservant's shoulder with something akin to appreciation (though Arthur would probably deny it until his dying day).

" _Emrys,_ " Scéawung beckoned once more, " _it is time_."

Merlin inhaled, nodding.

"I think it is time for me to go, now," Merlin announced quietly.

The swordsmen all sobered at this, and nodded solemnly.

"Go make us proud."

Merlin smiled, beyond gratified by the notion that he had such compassionate friends.

He would do everything in his (admittedly vast) power to please them, even if it meant revealing his greatest secret, and risking execution-or  _worse_ , exile.

He  _would_ make them proud.

* * *

Merlin approached Scéawung hesitantly, as if literally walking on eggshells.

" _There is no need to fear me, Emrys_ ," she whispered with what could have been a laugh. " _I will not do you any harm, so long as you manage to keep your wits about you._ "

Merlin winced, thinking about his agonized cranium and the predicaments that it might cause him.

" _Thanks a lot, dollophead,_ " Merlin thought irritably, sticking his tongue out at the king.

The royal blinked in surprise, wondering what had compelled his manservant to do so. He then shrugged, and stuck his own out.

Merlin rolled his eyes, a ghost of a simper tugging at his lips.

" _You both share quite a unique relationship_ ," Scéawung mused, watching the two men with something vaguely resembling amusement.

" _I suppose we do. We tease each other day in and day out, but when push comes to shove, we'd die for each other,_ " Merlin agreed warmheartedly.

" _Amity such as yours and the Once and Future King's epitomizes brotherhood, does it not_?" Scéawung questioned rhetorically.

" _I suppose it does_ ," Merlin concurred. " _Oh, what's the prat doing now?_ "

Merlin groaned as the young monarch sent him a particularly crude, Merlin-made gesture. The warlock countered it, secretly pleased that he had invented an obscene gesture that would go unnoticed by the other nobles.

"Enough repartee. It is now time for us to begin our duel," Scéawung proclaimed, glancing at Arthur inquisitively.

The knights exchanged anxious looks, pondering over what to expect from the enigmatical sorceress.

"We are both allowed to use any and all weapons at our disposal if we so desire," the sorceress continued. "We have until sunrise to duel. If the battle is not yet won once our time expires, we continue the following eve, until one of us is declared the victor. Do you agree to these terms?" the woman asked, looking specifically at her challenger.

Merlin gulped, bowing to show his agreement.

"Then it is settled. We begin combat on my count," Scéawung declared.

Three seconds passed, though they felt like ages to all of the men present. Had it truly been ages, no one, aside from Scéawung, would be conscious, as they all unwittingly held their breaths in anticipation.

"Let us begin," Scéawung announced, her voice quiet, but her words some of the loudest the antsy men had ever heard.

Merlin grunted in acknowledgement, drawing his "sword" threateningly.

" _Ah, a Sidhe staff. I cannot fathom why you would obscure it so,_ " the sorceress remarked.

Merlin's eyes narrowed, and he poised himself to strike.

" _I see. You are reluctant to embrace your true self in the presence of your companions,_ " Scéawung said apathetically. " _Very well, Emrys, but heed my words; your stubbornness will be your undoing_."

Merlin faltered for a moment, unnerved by the enchantress's words, before readying his "sword" once more.

"I am not afraid of you," Merlin said aloud, " _nor am I afraid of who I truly am_ ," he finished telepathically.

" _Is that so_?" Scéawung responded, subtle pleasure lacing her tone. "We shall see about that."

Merlin raised his faux blade, almost landing a blow on the sorceress. It became apparent that she had merely been toying with him, however, as a massive conflagration erupted just above the hoary, delicate palm of her hand.

Merlin narrowly dodged the following blast, diving towards the cobbled ground and rolling elegantly, in a manner similar to what Arthur had  _attempted_ to teach him during one of many training sessions. Arthur had been determined to teach his manservant a thing or two about swordplay, "…so I won't always have to come save your sorry  _ar_ —, and you won't accidentally take someone's eye out." Such a seemingly-futile ambition certainly did  ** _NOT_**  develop out of concern for the boy—or so Arthur told himself.

" _Hey_!" the Once and Future King cried out indignantly. "I thought you didn't know how to do that!"

Merlin grinned sheepishly, rubbing his sable locks as he shrugged apologetically. The young man was nearly hit by one of Scéawung's fire blasts as he did so, and only just managed to elude it (with a touch of his special talent, of course). Nonetheless, the momentary distraction nearly cost Merlin his life, much to the aggravation of the knights. They all sent their king filthy glares, prompting the monarch to shrink into himself shamefacedly.

Although Arthur desperately wanted to shout,  _"Sorry!"_ , he held his tongue. He did not want to try his men's patience; he'd seen what they could do. He had trained them, after all.

As Arthur cowered at the irritated expressions of the knights, Merlin just managed to evade yet another fire attack.

"You are holding back," Scéawung remarked with a sigh. "Such a shame. I was quite looking forward to this match. After all, I spent eons anticipating it."

The knights looked on in astonishment at this, filled with renewed worry for their friend. After all, a woman that old must be exceedingly difficult to strike down.

Merlin, however, did not seem fazed by this, as the sorceress had already told him as much during their first encounter.

The knights watched, horrified, as the woman sent a particularly great perse-colored fireball towards the young man.

Grimacing, Merlin prepared his staff, head angled away from where his friends spectated. As the violaceous inferno drew nearer, the beads of sweat on the warlock's brow multiplied.

" _Just a moment longer…_ NOW _!_ " Merlin thought. The moment the flames began to lick at his staff, Merlin swung, magically casting the bluish-red blaze away from himself.

To the knights, it seemed that the manservant had used his "sword" to knock the fiery attack away from himself, sending it straight back to its originator. They wondered if, perhaps, Scéawung would be more easily defeated than they had initially thought.

Any such thoughts dissipated upon seeing the woman casually douse the flames with a wave of her hand.

"You and I  _both_  know that this is not the best you can do," the sorceress called impatiently.

"I don't know  _what_  you're talking about," Merlin lied in a low, growling voice.

"You cannot deceive me as you have deceived them. I can see into your heart, your mind, and your  _soul_ ," Scéawung countered unflinchingly.

" ** _Stalker_**!" Gwaine crowed from the sidelines. The other knights face-palmed as Scéawung sent him a particularly nasty glare.

"How do I know you are not trying to deceive  _me_?" Merlin questioned brashly.

"Simple; how else could I have recognized your worthiness? I would not have challenged you otherwise," the woman replied, her ash-blonde hair dancing on nonexistent winds. "Now, please put your full effort into this battle. It will never cease until you do so," the sorceress urged.

"I think I'm trying pretty hard right now, but... thanks for the vote of confidence," Merlin retorted under his breath. Scéawung heard him nonetheless.

"Very well. You have forced my hand," the woman announced indifferently, summoning yet another blaze.

Merlin poised himself once more, preparing himself to counter the attack.

Scéawung sent him a pitying, almost apologetic smile, flummoxing the young warlock.

His eyes widened with both horror and realization as the woman turned towards none other than the Once and Future King himself.

Time seemed to slow as Scéawung retracted her arm, prepared to throw the purple inferno.

She released it.

Merlin was idly aware of a distant scream as the violet flames made contact with Arthur's chest.

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Lyft, fyr; ágénsendan mec!" = Wind, fire; send me back!


End file.
